


Silver Lining

by helsinkibaby



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: 1-million-words, F/M, Het, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:31:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4134144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're cuddling on the couch when it happens</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Lining

**Author's Note:**

> For the "cuddling" on the couch square on my June Bingo card

They're cuddling on the couch, watching something mindless on the television, when it happens. Kimball is sitting in the corner, legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed on the coffee table. Michelle is lying on the couch, her back against his chest, his arms around her, fingers having found their way under her shirt and tracing idle patterns there. It's their accustomed way of unwinding after a long day at work - they're all long days, but today has been the tedious kind of long, filled with statements and paperwork and justifications to the brass, the kind of day that made them question their career choice, if not their sanity. 

Tonight, when they got home, this is all Michelle had wanted, that sense of normality, the way that the two of them had found to shut the door on the FBI and have it just be the two of them. And they'd managed it too. 

Then it happens. 

Kimball's fingers still against her skin, freezing on one particular spot. Then his fingers trace it, slowly, carefully and it's like the air changes in the room, the hazy comfort of moments before giving way to something more fraught and charged. She feels it straight away, moves her own hand so that it lays on top of his for a moment before she shifts her hand so that their fingers lace together. He squeezes her hand and she turns her head so that she can look at him, her heart constricting painfully at the look in his eyes. "Kimball," she whispers, "don't." 

"Sorry." His smile is tight, forced. "I've avoided it all day... I guess it had to catch up with us some time."

She nods, although she figures it's actually harder on him than it was on her. When it comes to memories of that day, hers mostly stop after they got out of the car at the diner. It was a normal response to trauma, the doctors had told her, the brain's way of protecting herself from things it would hurt too much to remember. Kimball, she knew, remembers everything, from the sound of the gunshot to the weight of her in his arms to the amount of blood she'd lost, the colour, the smell. 

"It's hard to believe it was a year ago," she says quietly, looking down at their joined hands, still surprised sometimes by how much has changed between them. "I didn't even know if you liked me. And not like like this like ... I mean at all."

Kimball's fingers tighten on hers. "You almost died in my arms," he reminds her. "That's the kind of thing that makes you change your perspective."

Michelle considers that. "So maybe we need to change our perspective again," she suggests, leaning back so she can see him. "Instead of the day I almost died, we think of it as the first day you got to hold me in your arms." 

She's only half joking and from anyone else, that would have warranted a frown, or at the very least a raised eyebrow. Kimball simply blinks; it does the same job. "Did you miss the part about bleeding out on me?" 

She shrugs, giving him a small smile. "Every cloud has a silver lining."

Kimball looks like he's considering that for a long moment. Then he reaches up, fingertips grazing her cheek, tracing a path down to her chin. "You're my silver lining," he tells her with eyes so serious that any desire she might have had to tease him about being uncharacterisally romantic disappears before it can take root. 

He leans down and kisses her, causing a different type of desire to take root, and there is no need for further words. 


End file.
